


A Drabble A Day

by FreyaOdin



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, SePTXCC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-22 11:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11966841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaOdin/pseuds/FreyaOdin
Summary: Written as part of the September Pentatonix Creator's Challenge 2017, which provides a one-word prompt for every day in September.





	1. Coffee

**1\. Coffee**

“What do you mean there’s no coffee?” Kirstie asks. “You promised if we got here on time, there’d be green room coffee.”

“There was a fire in the station’s kitchen,” Esther says miserably. “They’ve ordered some, but you’ll probably be on the air before it arrives.”

“Uh, anyone told Mitch?” Kevin glances warily over his shoulder. “Or assessed the risk of an uncaffeinated Mitch having to answer stupid radio show questions for an hour?”

“Forget Mitch,” Kirstie says, yawning behind her hand. “Worry about Scott.”

“Why Scott?”

Esther sighs. “There’s no breakfast either.”

Kevin closes his eyes. “Lord help us.”'

 

**Thoughts?**


	2. Knife

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Scott frowns. “I thought you liked the song?”

“The band, Scott.” Avi smiles sadly. “It’s too much.”

It’s like a knife in his gut. They all built Pentatonix, all worked hard to get where they are. But it’s also _his_. His idea. His baby. “…What?”

“I thought you should know first. Don’t say anything until I tell the others?”

“I…” _Fuck._ “I’m not going to be able to hide”—how much this _hurts_ —“I’m upset.”

“I’m sorry,” Avi says. “I love you guys.”

Scott believes him. He truly does.

But he still feels the knife.

 

**Thoughts?**

**(SORRY)**


	3. Underwear

Mitch saunters by while Scott's on the phone, posing dramatically before continuing to his room.

"Hey, babe." Scott licks his lips, then tries and fails to rewind his mom's last sentence. "Sorry, what?"

She sighs. "Is Mitch wandering around in his underwear again?"

Does he ever not? "Yep."

"Shouldn't he have grown out of that by now?"

A pair of grey briefs abruptly lands in a heap outside Scott's doorway.

Oh. _Okay_. "I think he's working on it."

"Wearing pants?"

"Something like that." A box of condoms slides by, as blatant an order as Mitch ever gives. "Gotta go, Mom!"

 

  
**Thoughts?**


	4. Moment

The repeating dissonance is oddly soothing as Kevin enters the room, quieting with every beat. Mitch is sprawled on the couch, an arm over his eyes, lips pursed. He's concentrating.

The chord flares back to life, jarring Kevin’s senses before fading again. “What on Earth is this?”

“Stockhausen,” Mitch murmurs. “I’m trying to understand his concept of ‘moment’.”

“I’ve read this,” Kevin says. “Each passage is an experimental unit, no more or less important than others. No beginning. No end.” He sits down. “It’s…really weird.”

Mitch’s mouth curves into a smile. “I like it.”

Kevin hesitates, then nods. “Me too.”

 

**Thoughts?**


	5. Fresh

Avi leans on the railing, breathing deeply. The morning air is brisk, heavily scented with cedar from the wood of the deck and the trees surrounding him.

It’s beautiful. He takes a sip of coffee and closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the first rays of sun peeking over the mountain.

This is his now, whenever he wants it. Sure he’ll have commitments, performances and sessions he can’t miss. But he can decide how when and how many; nobody else has to slow down for him.

It’s just him now, Avi, and the trees and fresh air all around.


	6. Soothing

Cool hands smooth down Mitch’s back, spreading aloe over sensitive skin. He hums appreciatively.

He’s sunburned again. He should really learn, listen to the nagging fans or at least his own mother. But he never does.

The hands are pure bliss. He’ll need to return the favor; he’s not the only lobster here, after all. Maybe grant a second one while he’s at it. He wriggles his hips, imagining the cool gel sliding between them in another form of relief.

The hands pause, then the touch becomes hungrier. Still soothing, but now also carrying a promise.

Mitch’s hum grows deeper. 

**Thoughts?**


	7. Pocket

It wasn’t spontaneous; he’s been thinking about it for a while. But when he walked past it in the window, he’d known immediately it was the one.

He just needs to think of the perfect proposal before the stress makes him throw up or kills him. He’s never been this nervous.

He knows he’s loved back and pretty sure the answer will be yes. Pretty sure he’ll be engaged ten seconds after he asks. Pretty sure they’ll share a beautiful, happy life together.

That doesn’t help his stomach though. Nothing will while the ring burns a hole in his pocket. 

**Thoughts?**


	8. Ritual

Kevin’s never loved tea. He likes it. Enjoys the flavors of the world in every cup. Earl Grey brewed with exact precision in London. Milky Chai simmered for hours in a dorm room at Yale. Matcha’s near-endless tranquility just outside of Kyoto. 

It’s never the drink that draws him; it’s the ritual. And there’s none he likes better than dozens of tiny cups poured alongside dim sum, green or oolong or both, catching up on Beijing gossip, laughing until he can’t breath, pausing only long enough to thank the server as she brings him and his friends still more tea. 


	9. Fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did try to get this idea into 100 words, but it was so choppy it was basically unreadable, so I’m cheating with a double today:

The Multiverse Cafe is...strange. Standard fifties decor, but the duplicates of everyone Scott knows are a mindfuck. Three Kevins are conversing in at least four languages, and a pair of Mitches are flirting with each other in the back, which Scott’s ignoring so his brain, among other things, doesn’t explode.

Another Scott sits down beside him. “First time here?”

“Yeah.” He stares at himself. He’s 25ish, maybe? “Still in grad school?”

That gets a weird look. “You went to grad school before Pentatonix?”

Before Scott can ask what a Pentatonix is, Kirstie—the one waitressing, not the teenager gossiping with an elderly Nicole—plunks coffee in front of them. “Today’s special is fruit pancakes. Bananas alright?”

“No!”

“No!!”

“Ooookay,” she says, writing their order and backing away. “Strawberries it is.”

Other Scott cocks an eyebrow. “Mitch’s disturbing porn?”

That’s a research proposal, not a trauma-induced food aversion. “Giant fucking spider.”

“Ew!” Other Scott jerks away, hands waving in disgust. “At least I got some sex out of never wanting to touch bananas again.”

Scott leans back in his seat and smirks.

“Wait, seriously?” Other Scott asks. “ _How?_ ”

Heh. Scott takes a sip of his coffee. This is going to be _fun_.

 

**Thoughts?**

**If you don’t recognize these two, they’re from[Heebie Jeebies](https://www.wattpad.com/story/89603203-heebie-jeebies-sc%C3%B6m%C3%ACche) by Ehcimocs on Wattpad and [silentdescant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/)'s [Inspirational](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8165783). Thanks for lending me your Scotts, ladies. **


	10. Dance

Mitch is drunk. He’s just getting to Scott’s favorite stage of Mitch being drunk, where he’s lost enough inhibitions for his dance to get sexier, dirtier, but not so many that he’ll grind on just anybody. He’s handsy too, but so far Scott’s the only recipient of his not-so-innocent touches.

Scott’s not judging; God knows he gets all up on anyone around whenever he’s had way too many too. He’s seen enough video evidence to prove it.

But still, he loves this stage the best, when he has Mitch’s open, devoted, thirsty affection and doesn’t yet have to share it.

 

**Thoughts?**


	11. Messy

Ever since the swoop was introduced, Mitch has been obsessed with Scott’s hair. The color of it in the sun. The texture. How it falls after Scott runs his hand through it. How it feels when Mitch does the same. 

But first thing in the morning is his favorite. When it’s a messy blond mop spreading across a pillow, crowning sleepy blue eyes that crinkle into a smile just for him. 

Well no, that’s not quite true. Technically his favorite is when it's clenched tight between his fingers, slick with sweat and splattered with come.

…Mitch should get on that.

 

**Thoughts?**


	12. Strong

As a mother, Connie’s been scared before. She worried the entire time Lindsay served, and Scott’s scoliosis was hard for everyone.

None of it compares to hearing Esther’s gentle, “There’s been an accident.”

She cries on the plane, but she doesn't truly break until she sees Scott, unconscious, looking battered and so very fragile.

Even if all goes well, her baby has months of recovery and pain ahead of him. He’ll hate it, and she cries for him.

But as he stirs, her tears dry. He’ll need strength, so strong is what she’ll be.

“Rick, I think he’s waking up.”

 

**Thoughts?**


	13. Temptation

She shouldn’t do it. Kevin’s sprawled out, catching a peaceful nap in the hour between their arrival and the start of preshow prep. She should just take a snap for the fans and then let him sleep.

But where’s the fun in that?

Instead, she dangles her scarf, letting the tassels tickle his nose. It’s not  _ her  _ fault he smacks himself in the face trying to shoo away a nonexistent fly. 

It’s also not her fault that Scott wanders by at exactly the wrong time to look innocent.

Kirstie ducks and grins. Avoiding temptation has never been her strong suit.

 

**Thoughts?**


	14. Second

The auditions were the most difficult, strenuous performances he’s ever given, challenging his range, sense of rhythm, ability to adapt. It was simultaneously inspiring and a nightmare.

For the first two rounds he didn’t even know what he was auditioning for. The label was secretive. But his agent trusted the director, and he trusted his agent, so he went. 

Now he’s holding the offer in his hands. And he  _ wants  _ it, so very badly.

But the band is still hurting, and the fans are still loyal, and he doesn’t know if he can handle the emotional cost of being second.

 

**Thoughts?**


	15. Sharing

“Shit, it’s freezing!” Scott says, pulling his sleeves down over his hands. 

“There’s one more blanket.” Esther replies, pointing with her chin.

Scott gets to it first, but Kirstie only has to pout for a moment before he sighs and lets her crawl into his lap. 

“Aww,” Esther says, pulling out her phone. “Scirstie content. So cute.”

Kirstie buries herself into the warmth of Scott’s chest, humming as he wraps his arms and the blanket around her. “She shares that and they’ll decide you’re bi again.”

He snorts and presses a kiss to her head. “Like I give a fuck.”

 

**Thoughts?**


	16. Bag

Mitch glares at the suitcase. The  _wrong_  suitcase.

"Would you  _relax_  and come to bed?" Scott whines. "Your $2000 grandpa pants will turn up tomorrow."

Mitch rolls his eyes. "You're just horny."

"Have you seen your ass today? Hell yes, I'm horny."

"My 'grandpa pants' weren't the only things in that bag, asshole."

"Unless it's the lube, I don't care."

Mitch smirks.

"Oh fuck."

He checks his phone. "The stores are all closed. Unless you want to wake Esther up to figure something out, there will be no fuck."

Scott looks like he's actually considering it.

"Don't you fucking dare."

 

**Thoughts?**


	17. Sister

“I came in  _ last _ .”

Lindsay winces. It’s not just his words, tinny and echoing over the crappy ship phone line. It’s the devastation in his voice. Scott never feels anything halfway. “I’m sure you did great.”

“The judges didn’t think so.”

She sighs. “You have so much talent, Scotty. You’ll grow into it.”

She can picture him, long, gangly limbs curled up in Dad’s favorite chair. He’s silent for a moment, then plaintively asks, “What if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll still be my favorite brother.”

The comeback is old, but she can hear his smile. “I’m your only brother, dipshit.”

 

**Thoughts?**


	18. Clouds

Mitch pictures his mental health as the sky. It’s relatively clear most days. But on others, depressive thoughts form like looming rain that never falls, building in pressure until he can barely breathe. Meanwhile, his anxiety is a funnel cloud in the distance that can swirl without warning into a tornado, spiralling his mind into an unpredictable vortex of illogical self-doubt.

He has a sun, thankfully. A beautiful, luminous blond sun that shines bright and does everything in its power to melt away the clouds that gather in his life. 

It just can’t always reach the ones in his head.

 

**Thoughts?**


	19. Mulitple

Amanda, their surrogate, looks shell-shocked, which isn’t reassuring. They’ve been so happy since she told them the pregnancy tests were positive, but now Scott’s worried something’s gone wrong.

The doctor clears her throat. “We found two healthy gestational sacs forming.”

Scott can feel his eyes welling up at ‘‘healthy’, and when a hand squeezes his he turns to see Mitch’s equally bright grin. “Twins. Wow. Good thing we decided on only two embryos, huh?”

“One of the sacs has split.”

Scott doesn’t catch on initially. It’s not until Mitch says, “Oh fuck, triplets,” that he gets it.

Oh fuck. _Triplets._

 

**Thoughts?**


	20. Sandwich

“Dad?”

Mitch opens bleary eyes to find Anthony beside the bed and the clock reading 3:02. “What’s wrong, Bug?”

“Smoosh sandwich?”

Mitch lets that percolate through his sleepy brain, noting the hand flapping, the slight rocking. He’s stimming. Nightmare maybe, or just overstimulated. He won’t answer yet even if Mitch asks, so he just says, “Climb in.”

It’s only after poor Scott wakes to a classic child-knee-in-the-groin that Mitch thinks to add, “Gently!”

One smoosh sandwich later, deep touch pressure soothing Anthony to sleep between them, Mitch drifts back off snuggling his two favorite boys.

 

**Thoughts?**


	21. Fall

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , what possessed you to get on that ladder?”

Scott winces. He’s been dreading Mitch’s arrival. “The bulb needed replacing.”

“You couldn’t call one of the kids? A neighbor, maybe?” 

“I’m not  _ helpless _ .”

“No, you’re eighty six! Too damn old to be falling off ladders.”

Scott scowls, picking at his new cast. He doesn’t deserve this level of pissiness.

“And if you’d broken something worse than your arm? Then where would I be? Alone!”

Oh. 

Mitch sighs and kisses his forehead. “You aren’t allowed to leave me, remember? You utter asshole.”

Maybe he does deserve it. “I’m sorry, Mitchy.”

 

**Thoughts?**


	22. Lucky

“...Seven…Eight…Nine... Ten.”

“Nine ten?”

“You’re not supposed to laugh.”

“Sorry. Start again.”

***

“Lucky I’m in love with my best… sorry, lost the key again.”

“How can you sing in Pentacatooonix if you can’t stay in tune?”

“That is an amazing question.”

“Follow my lead better.”

“Sure. That’ll help.

***

“Lucky to have been where I have… I can’t do this with you looking at me like that.”

“You’re just so bootiful. I’m glad you’re my bae.”

“I can’t with you.”

***

“Wooohooohooohooohooowooohoowoohoo--”

“I’m never getting through this in a million years.”

***

“Welp, I only broke twice that take.”

“Good enough?”

‘Good enough.”

 

**Thoughts?**


	23. Plastic

“It’s still in the way,” Kirstie says, pointing to the large, marble statue ruining the shot.

Scott smirks. “Need a big, strong man to move it for you?”

Kirstie rolls her eyes.

“Guess that’s me,” Kevin says, rolling up his sleeves. “‘Cause _ you _ ain’t swole enough.”

“Hey!”

“We’ll never wrap if either of you two idiots gives yourself a hernia,” Mitch says. “Move it together.”

“Fine.” Scott grabs one side, Kevin grabs the other. “Ready?”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

They both push with all their strength… and land flat on their faces.

“Huh,” Kirstie says, knocking on the fallen statue. “Plastic.”

 

**Thoughts?**


	24. Turn

Scott runs through it again, then plunks a discordant mess in frustration. “Ugh, this isn’t working.”

“It’s not terrible,” Kevin says.

“Wow,” Scott replies. “I hope that’s how all the reviews read. ‘ _ Not terrible _ .’”

Kevin sighs, pushing Scott’s shoulder to get him to make room on the piano bench. “What if instead of just gliding up, we gave it a turn?” He demonstrates. “Then inverted it?”

“Oooh, hot.” Scott repeats it an octave higher and then smiles, fluttering his eyelashes. “Talk  _ embellishments _ to me, big boy.”

Kevin sighs again and shoves him the rest of the way off the bench.

 

**Thoughts?**


	25. Sound

Mitch is always on the lookout for new sounds. He loops them. Layers them. Maps them to his MIDI fighter and finger drums until something amazing comes out.

He’s got his favorite ever set of samples right now. He still can’t believe Scott gave him permission to record them, uh, _playing_.

He’ll never release it. His manager would freak and Mitch can’t publicly perform something that makes him hard as a rock anyway, no matter how good it sounds.

But maybe he’ll add a deep groove and see how long it takes to make _Scott_ hard with a private performance.

 

**Thoughts?**


	26. Soft

Mitch has a thing for waking up early to slide under the covers and suck Scott’s cock. It’s delicious like this. Fills his mouth perfectly.

It never lasts long; Mitch soon has far more than a mouthful twitching on his tongue. Sleepy, half-formed sighs tumble from Scott’s lips, becoming words of praise as he wakes. Clumsy, grateful fingers card through Mitch’s hair until awareness tightens their hold.

It’s that transition Mitch loves, the way he can pull Scott from soft and vulnerable to hard and powerful within just a few moments. That control, like Scott himself, is addictive as hell. 

 

**Thoughts?**


	27. Bicycle

“I hate this,” Mitch says, puffing as he pushes his bike up the hill.

“You’re doing fine.” Scott’s walking just ahead of him. Which is nice; he could be done already if he wasn’t waiting for Mitch.

“Oh, really?” Mitch looks behind them. Yep. Devoid of life. “Because I’m pretty sure we’re last.” Then he trips, almost landing on his face. He growls in frustration. “Teambuilding, my _ass_.”

“We’re almost at the top,” Scott says. “And your ass looks mighty fine.”

“ _You’re_ my ass.”

Scott turns, somehow managing to walk his bike backwards, and grins. “And I look mighty fine.”

 

**Thoughts?**

 


	28. Inspiration

“Spark. Eleven letters.”

Scott doesn’t know why Mitch is doing a newspaper crossword over breakfast, but whatever makes him happy. “Electricity?”

Mitch frowns. “Last four letters are T-I-O-N.”

“Uh...illumination?”

“That’s twelve.”

“Well, you think of something.”

“Motivation? Stimulation? No. Scintillation?”

“Oooh,  _ ssscintillation _ . That’s hot.”

Mitch cocks an eyebrow. “Are you getting  _ turned on  _ by this?”

Maybe? “The mental  _ stimulation _ is leading to inspiration. Come to bed with me?”

Mitch smirks and takes the hand Scott offers, but then drops it almost immediately. “Inspiration!” 

Scott’s mouth falls open as Mitch reaches for his pencil. “…Are you kidding me right now?”

 

**Thoughts?**


	29. Patient

Esther is a patient person. She has to be, to do her job. Figuring out erratic venue policies, spending hours on calls with hotel and airline customer service.

It's all part of the business and it's fine. Mostly.

But sometimes, dealing with her brother and the four other children he calls bandmates makes her question her will to live. They're her friends. She loves them. But some days...

"Okay, so. You know how I'm forgetful sometimes?"

"Oh my God, Kevin. I can't deal with you right now."

Esther is a patient person. But some days take more effort than others. 

 

**Thoughts?**


	30. Chain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, another double, because I'm too drained to think of something that could fit into 100 words without sucking:

Chains for Kirstie are pretty necklaces, letters copied out as a kid for good luck, leashes for leading Olaf and Pascal (or more often being led by them), and Jeremy, her welcome ball and chain.

Chains for Mitch can be necklaces too, but the collars and cuffs he’s drawn to are different than a dog’s leash. More intriguing. Tantalizing. Something he doesn’t yet fully understand but needs and wants to explore. 

Chains for Avi were the pressures and commitments that kept him from his trees and from nature and the holidays. He’s broken them, broken free, and while he’s somewhat sad about what he’s lost, he still has no regrets. 

Chains for Scott are the links of DNA that tie him to his family, to Texas, to home. He forms chains easily, to friends or to lovers. Some of them rust and fade but others are forged stronger, bright and secure and capable of weathering anything.

Chains for Kevin are his unbreakable bond to God, worn with joy and humility and peace. But they’re also a reminder of all he would never have achieved if he’d had the misfortune to be born in the same place, but in another time.

 

**Thoughts?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this was a fun challenge. But I'm kinda glad it's over XD


End file.
